


NUMB

by hanahakie



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanahakie/pseuds/hanahakie
Summary: Ever since Sandy left for Florida and forgot him, Sodapop has never really been the same.Song: NUMB - XXXtentacion





	NUMB

His letter had been returned.  _Unopened._

Soda had never felt this much emotional pain in his life. Add that to the fact that Darry and Pony were fighting again, and it was agony.

He looked at the envelope again, at the wet spots where his tears had fallen on it. He loved Sandy. He really did. Loved her enough to be willing to marry her when she was knocked up higher than a kite, even though it wasn't even his baby.

 _Unopened_. And yet it was just as bad as if she'd torn it to pieces. That was basically what she'd done to his heart.

Darry was going to be home from work soon, Pony from school even sooner. Soda knew he had to turn off the waterworks, put on the facade that everything with him was peachy keen, and yet he couldn't. There was a hot-cold shock deep in his chest, numbing everything else in the world except for his overflowing nonemotions, and it was like a well that refused to dry up and stop pumping tears to his eyes.

Perhaps it was impossible for someone to cry for years straight, but that was how Soda currently saw his immediate future. He didn't quite mind it- though it was sad and pathetic, it was, in its own way,  _noble._

He put the envelope back under the boxspring of his and Pony's bed and buried his head in a pillow, sobbing until the grips of sleep pulled him into nothingness.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey, buddy! What do you think you're doing?"

Boy, that customer was angry, and for a second Soda didn't know why. Then he saw gas pouring from the gas nozzle of the man's car, and he realized why.

"Watch it! You're gonna mess up the paint, you hooligan!"

He'd zoned out again. It had been nearly two weeks, and he was still messed up over Sandy. He'd been able to hide it at first, but the gang was starting to catch on. They saw the light in his eyes start to dim and go out, saw his grins deteriorate until he even stopped trying to smile. With a murmur of apology, Soda removed the pump from the tank and put it back, slowly handing the man his change.

"Sorry about that, sir!" That was Steve's voice. He had come up next to Soda when he saw what happened, and was wiping the man's car off with a cloth, a bottle of detailer near at hand. "My friend hasn't been so well lately. Been sick."

The customer drove off, and then Steve turned to Soda, concerned.

"You sure you're alright, Soda? You're seriously starting to turn into some kind of shell, man."

Soda managed a grin, but it was as useless as an umbrella in a hurricane.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Promise." His tone was steady enough- to him, at least.

Steve gave him a final worried glance, his lips pressed together in thought, and let him alone. He didn't want to. He didn't believe Soda at all, but there were other customers he had to attend to.

Soda felt the wave of grief wash over him again, and zoned out. Again.

 


End file.
